


always standing in your doorway

by coykoi



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Comic References, F/M, PeterMJ - Freeform, Spideychelle, doorways are symbolism!!, i wrote this as a procrastination tactic, peter went on the run, post ffh, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:08:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26931913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coykoi/pseuds/coykoi
Summary: Four hours.It’s been four hours, and Peter doesn’t know how much longer he can just stand here, how much longer he can just wait while she’s simply on the other side.He’s been holding his breath forfour hours.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 36
Kudos: 104





	always standing in your doorway

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy this short one shot i wrote to procrastinate finishing the first chap of another WIP

Four hours.

It’s been four hours, and Peter doesn’t know how much longer he can just stand here, how much longer he can just wait while she’s simply on the other side.

He’s been holding his breath for _four hours_.

“Michelle, please,” he whispers, his voice hoarse from use, from unrequited conversations, and he leans his forehead against the chipped wood. “Please, just...let me see you.”

Silence.

Peter swallows the lump in his throat, knowing that this is what he deserves after everything he’s done—or, everything he didn’t do. She’s right for not giving him the time of day, but his heart aches for her.

It’s been aching ever since he left three years ago, ever since he made one of the biggest mistakes of his life. The look in her eyes when she realized what was happening is one that still haunts him.

That day had already been chaotic beyond belief, Peter having had trouble comprehending what was going on himself. Three years ago when his secret identity had broken the tabloids.

Everyone had been rushing for an instant solution, an instant fix to prove his innocence and deny the claims made by Quinten Beck. 

Peter knew it wouldn’t be that easy, his mindset already settling into the thoughts of _get out, get away from them, stay away from them_.

He had to leave, had to get out of the city, because his loved ones would never be safe otherwise. Becoming a target as Spider-Man meant being alone. It was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make.

So, Peter didn’t stay for them. He left for them.

But not without giving his best friend the tightest hug and empty promises on the last day. Not without whispering words of reassurance to his aunt as she soaked his t-shirt with her tears. 

They would both be okay, and that’s what gave him the strength to do this.

That is, until he’d finally turned around and seen her in the back of the crowded room, quiet. Her expression spoke volumes, a pleading thing, and he knew she was terrified.

Michelle Jones, one of the bravest people he’s ever met, was _terrified_.

Maybe that’s what shook him. Seeing her standing there with glistening eyes and uncertainty, like maybe the future for him, for them, wouldn’t be as hopeful as he was making it out to be.

At that moment, he was suddenly afraid that his goodbye to her could be a permanent thing. The finality of it all would’ve been too much for him, would’ve hurt in a way he hasn’t experienced thus far. It would be as if one of them were about to be buried and these words were all they had left. 

Peter didn’t want this goodbye to be their last.

So, maybe that’s the reason he turned around, the reason he left without saying a word to her. He hadn’t regretted it until he was out of the city, when all that was left to think about was the look of betrayal that flashed in her eyes once he turned his back.

And now he’s here, begging.

They had been nothing for three years. That’s how long it took to have his name cleared, to be proven innocent, and being innocent meant coming home. But that was still three years of not existing as Peter Parker.

_Who was Peter Parker without Michelle Jones, anyway?_

When the good news had broken about being allowed to return home, his heart had leapt. He was ecstatic, thrilled that he would be able to see May and Ned again, but it was the prospect of seeing Michelle that made him nervous.

Peter knew this cold treatment was warranted, that she shouldn’t let him in her apartment because he had ruined something terribly. Time couldn’t fix everything.

But it’s the idea of only being a few feet away from her that has him desperate.

To be separated by thousands of miles is one thing. To be separated by impossibilities and restrictions, dangers and risks.

But to be separated by a door?

It hurts more than anything else, the barrier of choice between them, Peter knowing he could just as easily break the flimsy panel of wood down. But that’s not what she wants.

And of course, Peter is always going to give her what she wants, despite the fact that he isn’t making it easy—certainly not on himself.

Three years since he’s seen her last.

Yet these four hours have felt like the longest in his life.

“I’ve visited May and Ned,” Peter continues quietly, even though he knows it’s falling on deaf ears. She has no reason to listen to him. “I know you guys have all been taking care of each other, and I’m glad that you are. It’s good to be surrounded by people.”

There’s more silence, the only thing Peter hearing being the raging air conditioner from the next apartment, and he almost gives up. 

But then his ears pick up something else. A sharp inhale, like a breath that’s been held for ages, coming from the other side.

The prospect that maybe she’s been there the whole time, silently listening to what he’s had to say for this long—it gives him hope, something undeniable that blooms in his chest. 

“Em,” he says softly, and if they were playing a game, it could be considered cheating, using the nickname that’s reserved for only him. But, she isn’t a game and never will be. “I know you’re there. If...if you could grant me just one small kindness…”

And put him out of his misery of missing her, even still, just by opening the door. 

That’s what Peter thinks but doesn’t say out loud, knowing that the hours desperate words had been flowing from his lips are evidence enough that he’d do anything to see her.

“Why should I, Peter?” she asks, and the familiarity of her voice clobbers his heart back by three years. 

Michelle still sounds the same—the same as she had on the bridge, the same as she had before everything had fallen apart. Soft, quiet, always tinged with that edge to her voice that he’d quickly come to love.

Maybe he’d expected her to be hardened, to be duller or sharper or just different in some way, but she isn’t.

She’s just the same as he remembers, and that makes this barrier between them even worse.

“I know you don’t owe me anything. I know we’re not...that things are different now, but I...I am out of my mind, Michelle,” he admits, resting a hand on the knob. 

Peter then swallows, trails off, and almost takes a step back. That would’ve been the wiser move, he knows now, to stand down.

Because Michelle isn’t so easily forgiving.

The knob twists in his hand, but it’s from her end, and the door swings open after being locked for so long. Not on its own accord, but from the force of her emotion.

“You don’t get to say these things to me, Peter,” Michelle tells him, finally revealing herself to him. She is beautiful, and she is enraged. “You don’t get to say them when you were the one who chose that path. You chose to leave, and you chose to be alone.”

“Michelle,” Peter tries, about to take a step forward, but this is her home and he’s an intruder.

“Don’t—don’t come in,” she says, shaking her head and avoiding his eyes, so he remains in the hallway, still a doorway apart. “You left, and not a word for three years, Peter. I didn’t hear a single word.”

“I—I had to keep a distance. I couldn’t contact you or May or Ned,” he reasons, gripping the door frame with enough force that it nearly bends under the pressure. “But I wanted to, Michelle. I did.”

Michelle whips around, her eyes glistening with unshed emotion, and he nearly breaks the barrier that’s keeping him from her. “How could you want that when you didn’t even bother saying goodbye?”

“Em—”

“I know it’s been years. Any reasonable person might’ve gotten over it,” Michelle mutters with a self-deprecating laugh. “But I am far from reasonable when it comes to you. You leave, no goodbye, and then disappear off the face of the earth?”

“That was the best way to keep all of you guys safe,” Peter says, and maybe they’re talking over each other now, but she has to know.

“You could’ve been dead, and none of us would’ve known—”

“I couldn’t take the risk of any of you becoming targets because of me—”

“And now you have the audacity to come to _my_ door to tell me you’ve missed me,” Michelle says, her voice softening, and it’s more lethal than her anger. “When I would’ve gone with you all along.”

“I was _scared_ ,” he finally admits, his jaw shaking. “I was scared, Michelle. That’s not an excuse, but it’s why I didn’t talk to you. I didn’t know what was going to happen. If that was going to be the last time we’d see each other, I didn’t want our last memory to be a goodbye.”

“It would’ve been better than nothing,” she whispers, and her cheeks are damp as she looks away.

“Not nothing,” Peter insists before he takes a risk, breaks a rule. The doorway is the barrier between them, and he steps over it. “My last memories of us were the swing through New York...the plane ride home. The moment on the bridge. There was so much to remember. I held onto all of it.”

“You could’ve held onto me,” Michelle says, and the strength in her gaze matches his, them both being just as passionate about possibilities. 

But while Peter understands that he could’ve asked her to drop everything for him, he would never do it. That’s supposed to be his role—the one where he gives up everything for her just so she can be safe. 

If he could go back, he knows he wouldn’t change anything if this would still be the outcome. Both of them alive, both of them okay.

So, instead, all Peter can say is, “I can hold onto you now. Maybe it’s not enough anymore, and if all you want is for me to leave, I will. But if it is enough, even just a little...I promise I wouldn’t let you go again.”

Michelle releases a shaky breath and closes her eyes. She’s not looking at him, and confliction radiates off in waves. He knows his heart is on the line, in her hands, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And if she were to break his heart this time around, they would be even. A hard acceptance, a hard memory to let go, but it would be okay, and after a while, he would be too.

When Michelle starts to reach for the open door, he knows that it’s over. She wants him to leave so that this chapter of her life can end, and she can move on. This is their closure.

But then her hand guides the door closed, shutting it with a gentle click, and for once, he isn’t on the opposite side. 

“Don’t let me regret this, Peter,” she tells him, and all he can do is nod and laugh, a watery thing.

“Michelle, trust me when I say that getting a second chance from you,” he murmurs, pulling her close and holding her tight, with—finally—nothing between them anymore. “It’s like hitting the jackpot.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr and twitter @coykoii


End file.
